


Bittersweet

by IZZYCHAN13



Category: Wreck-It Ralph (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Secret Identity, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 17:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15977012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IZZYCHAN13/pseuds/IZZYCHAN13
Summary: A fanfiction-style roleplay between Sasami14 and IZZY-CHAN13 [FF.Net]. After a time of fear and complacency, Sour Bill has had enough with King Candy's treatment of him and the other servants. Deep down, he believes that this man's reign was not meant to be, and can't stand the negative emotions rising within him towards the ruler. AU where Sour Bill has always been human. (Jan 2015)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Credits:  
> Sasami14 as King Candy / Turbo  
> IZZY-CHAN13 as human!Sour Bill

The servant’s hands were shaky as he swept the hallway floor, only looking down at the decorative Neapolitan tile and nothing more. Dust particles picked up in one section and Sour Bill made sure to scrape the edges and corners of the wall. By his nature cleanliness was to be taken seriously but that sometimes got him caught up with details instead of the larger picture, to get the job done as soon as possible. He was head servant to King Candy and he did manage to balance out mundane tasks such as broom handling as well as more challenging tasks which the King would set up out of necessity or at times out of pushing his luck with the servant’s compliance. A taste of leadership Bill did have was that he was the one to assign tasks to the lower level workers, and be the one to correct them via constructive criticism and help. His method to right a wrong was ten times as effective as what his King would do.

The dust was in the pan and in the wastebasket in a matter of minutes—halfway done with this hall.

 

The Sugary Sultan of Sugar Rush had just completed all of his paper work for the day. With some hours to spare until the race for determining who the new avatars will be competing tomorrow, King Candy went to go check on Sour Bill to see how his task was going.

Pushing away from his confectionery themed desk, he headed out to the stairs and passed some of the servants of the castle. They immediately stopped and bowed deeply to their King, each one of them hold a hint of fear. "Hello King, how may we serve you?" they spoke altogether. Their 'King' looked to each one, taking his time to adjust his coat and crown to sit just right before speaking.

"Nothing for now, ahoo! Keep working like the busy beesth you all are sthuppose to act~" he spoke in an upbeat and overly cheery voice. However, his words rarely seemed to truly match his countenance. None the less, all the servants bowed once more to him and said, "Yes oh great King!" Each one of them quickly returning to cleaning and organizing that section of the castle.

Candy chuckled a "Hoo hoo!" at being called 'great' before moving on. Glad that they respect him, or fear him. He didn't care either way so long as none of them ever tried to talk down to him like a certain little..... Shaking his head, he put on a more neutrally serious expression as he hunted for his head servant, Sour Bill.

Upon entering another hall, he spied Bill half way down it. Cleaning to the nth degree every nook and cranny in and out of sight. Candy grinned inwardly as he hadn't had some 'fun' in a while. Putting on a casual air about himself, he strode with his jingly shoes down the clean section of the hallway.

Upon reaching Sour Bill, the King stopped next to a decorative vase that contained candied roses sitting upon an ornate half table against the wall. Noting the cleaning supplies strewn about the floor as Bill worked, Candy cleared his throat with a somewhat deep "AHEM!" to get his enraptured attention.

Waiting with a practiced patient expression of looking unimpressed or bored. Could be both or neither depending on his mood.

 

The other man heard him all right. Darkened eyelids of green orbs widened a centimeter before resuming a look of indifference, still focused on the floor. His old self would have immediately dropped everything and give full attention to the sovereign ruler of Sugar Rush. Not this time; King Candy’s so-called need for attention was already filled by the others at this point, he bet. And this reflective, unfeeling surface that they kneeled and stood on was much more interesting.

By now Sour Bill still hadn’t made eye contact with his superior, “Something wrong, Your Majesty?”

It dripped with a callousness that nearly got a corner of the servant’s lips lifted as it left his throat.

 

The King didn't take kindly to being ignored. Paying attention to the floor, he could see how Bill's face reacted, even if it was forced to be minuscule. Frowning just a tick, he too forced a different expression. Smiling in a way that didn't quite reach his eyes. His tone of voice sounding bubbly, yet not happy.

"Ohohohoo! Thisth day hasth been going great stho far! That wasth though," he paused, lowering his bubbliness to something a bit more serious, "until now."

Plucking a hard candied rose from the ceramic chocolate vase, Candy quizzed Bill as he inspected the sugary floral, "Bill, refresh my memory," he said in a pseudo condescending way, "WHEN did I order you to clean the hallway, hmmmm?"

Candy continued to act interested in the rose he held betwixt his digits. His eyes though looked past said object to a much more interesting reflection of his servant in the floor.

 

Still playing with their mirror, the servant got out a smirk, now wide enough to be rid of subtlety.

“You have no need to tell me what to clean.” His face again lifeless as he scratched at a tiny spot with the back of his thumbnail, “I’m actually helping you save your breath, talking; by cleaning what I believe needs to be..” He fell silent before getting up slowly; distancing himself from his King before eyeing that same rose, before looking straight into his rose orbs with an icy glare. Fingers shades darker than Candy’s slipped the stem away from that loose hold to place it back into the vase filled with sugar water with a tint of blue.

Sour Bill spotted a drop of red contaminating it. He merely blinked with faked curiosity, “What is that?”

“Sire, you should really watch those thorns.” The fact that the translucent stems were sharpened and polished rock candy didn’t help either.

 

When their gazes locked, Candy's was steeled with a hidden rage just waiting to burst forth. However, he didn't snap nor break his view of Bill, even when the rose was taken back to its vase. He paid little mind to the nick that now thudded crimson on his index finger. Feeling the blood in his veins already simmering with every word and look Bill made in disrespect. To the King.

Carefully the King pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped away the excess blood. As he could feel it clot, he plotted his next move with caution. Wanting to shove Bill in his place verbally. If that didn't work well, no one was around, were they? This section of castle was empty for the most part this time of day. Taking this 'sour' servant's attitude down a few notches physically would please this sugary sire greatly.

Despite being deep in thought, Candy kept a neutral face all throughout. Once the blood was cleaned from his hand he flicked the stained kerchief into Bill's face. His own giving a flash of a would-be smirk before remaining neutral as his voice was forced to sound.

"Well, thank you for that informative information!" Candy turned on his heel to start walking away as his conscious self caught up with him. HE couldn't risk being caught possibly decking Bill. If someone saw, that's all it would take to start undoing all his hard work.

He wouldn't let Bill goad him. He'll just mess with Bill indirectly. Via the code room.

For now though, "I'm STHURE you can figure out wha ta do with that handkerchief, ahoo!" he started to sound in higher spirits again. "Make sthure though it's back on my desk when you're done doing what I DON'T need to tell ya ta do, hoo hoo!"


	2. Chapter 2

Being used to having clothes flung in his face among other things, Sour Bill merely caught this light, stained fabric as it descended with a pincer grasp. He did catch sight of the smirk but didn’t bother moving a muscle. He was a statue to everything the King said and just stayed there as his superior whisked off. Being confrontational was not in his nature, and the shaking returned into his hands. Through this time working under King Candy, many moments were spent contemplating on just why he would act the way he did. Something wasn’t right; he felt it in his gut—his code—which made him uneasy.

When the King was finally out of sight, Bill only glanced at the handkerchief. A quick run under hot water in a plain ol’ sink was enough to be rid of the blood, if done quickly. Ignoring it for the floor would make him regret not washing it as soon as possible. The visual anomaly would bug him for about a week, so he went off briskly for the nearest bathroom in a spare room down the other side of the hall. Each bathroom had a container of laundry detergent just in case. The heat of the scalding water stimulated the scent of copper as fingers applied friction to the scrap. The fresher smell quelled it but by then Bill’s thinner eyebrows lowered as his eyelids drooped. He still did fear, admittedly, what his King was capable of. Sure he couldn’t kill him; he’d just regenerate.

“And he could regenerate too..” It was mumbled without a bit of passion; the man wasn’t _that_ desperate as to murder the ruler in his sleep for temporary satisfaction. Some thoughts were just said aloud. A quick punch to the face would be enough; Bill hated visualizing any of it—this wasn’t like himself at all. Working for King Candy had taken a toll, and only a groan expressed his frustration as the handkerchief was twisted by his fists to strain the liquid.

A hairdryer at low heat proved useful, and Bill soon found himself at his boss’ private study. He folded the thing neatly into a triangle and set it parallel to a corner of the cluttered desk.

And boy was it cluttered. It looked like a rowdy student’s statement against The Man. Fingers meshed together as Sour Bill bit his lip, wanting to at least stack the parchment and clean the pen with thinned jelly ink and… “Egh.”

 

The Man's desk could hardly be called one. Especially considering you couldn't make out if there was even a desk due to not being able to see past all the papers that littered it in layers. Smelling faintly of the different sweet and tangy inks the King would ALWAYS have freshly squeezed before starting his work for the day. But by the time he was done, the ink in the bottles would dry and flake, making them 50 times harder to clean and re-use. Another thing he prided himself on was making what would be easy tasks as hard as can be.

Said King in question was headed for his study. Fixing his silvery hair tufts to look proper again. For you see, he paid a little visit to the code room.

Now, he knew that Sour Bill had fairly strong strength and stamina stats to make up for the low health. His intelligence stat was above average and THAT made Candy burn with jealousy. Going to his own code box, he upped his own strength and stamina boxes. He had no need to before as his health was at the max level so he could last as long in the races as possible. Now though, he had reason; to teach a certain someone their place.

Glancing himself over once more in a mirror on a table just outside his study door, he put on the happy, bubbly mask and opened the door. Making a cheerful, 'Hoo hoo!' as he entered and headed straight for his desk. Not before locking the room's door however.

His chair was tall, large and VERY fancy looking with all kinds of gold leaf type candies. It was also very comfortable looking. Much better than the simple solid dark chocolate chair that sat in front of his desk when he was going to meet with someone.

Once he sat down and made himself comfortable, he smiled that sugar coated grin and offered, "Pleasthe, have a seat, ahoo!" he gestured to the uncomfortable looking chair.

 

Running a hand through his black, thin hair, the servant nearly got a headache once the details showed themselves. Apart from the decorative jelly ink, the diluted molasses splattered on a couple pieces of paper really irked Bill; the sort of chaotic shapes they left did manage to send a weird sensation down his spine. He’d have to keep his comments to himself for the time being. His King was at the doorway. He did hear the faint click and pursed his lips, not facing him until he came around and settled himself in his regal desk chair. He complied to his superior’s command, having little problem with being in the modern style seat—his skinny rump could settle on the floor if it had to. His back aligned with the natural curvature of the spine, Sour Bill nearly crossed a leg over the other, but locked his knees together to keep the image of politeness for King Candy. Hands in his lap, this other man’s eyes were dulled of any emotion, but were staring at the mess before him.

“Your handkerchief is clean now. I had to stop working in the hallway for it.” It was an extremely low and monotone voice. At least before when they were talking with each other his throat carried some inflection to reveal a passive-aggressiveness about him. “What is it.. that you want to talk about?”

Although Bill had an idea, his fingers wrapped themselves alongside the knuckles wanting to correct the incongruity that was Candy’s desk surface. Everything else with his expression and body was stoic. As he waited for the response his hooded orbs scanned the room beginning to pick out spots he’d probably want to tackle after his other chores were done. He then let out one breath of air and faced his ruler directly.

 

Candy was about to respond before catching how Bill eyed his desk and the room. Mistaking this action as Bill coveting what is his. But, he shoved that foolish thought down. Using logic that, clearly he knew his servant enough that he wouldn't want his office or position of power as King. Instead, wanting to re-organize everything. Which, was just as offensive to the sugary sultan.

This was HIS office and therefore HIS stuff. NO one gets to mess with anything of his unless told to do so.

The stoniness of Bill though kept the King from immediately jumping on him. He began to speak while keeping up his false cheeriness. "Hoo hoo! That hall isthn't going to sprout wheelsth and drive ya know. You can return to it oncthe we're done here."

At the question, Candy purposely paused to give Bill an even bigger smile. One that was unsettling in the least. He leaned forwards onto the paper covered desk, minding where his elbows went, and interlaced his fingers. Staring over the knuckles with a neutral look to his servant. His tone dropping the sugary coating and going to a low tone of his own. Even his lisp nearly fading.

"I would like to talk about how you've been undermining my authority after I'd reprimand servants whom, need I remind you, you trained. Ultimately though, if they don't meet my standards, there should be..... repercussion for their lack of hard work. A very high standard that you, of ALL people, are quite aware of."

The King then raised a silvery brow at him, "Am I not wrong?"

He laid the bait. Now all he had to do was wait. If Bill challenged him, tried to worm his way out, or even deny the obvious statement, he had him.

 

He was expecting the false bubbliness to fade, but not the lisp. He blinked and pursed his lips at his statement and then at the question, clearly set up to put him under the spotlight to look like a fool or hypocrite. Not being an expressive being by default, it was easier for him to mask inner conflict; his brows didn’t lower and he remained aloof. His hands loosened but they settled on the arms of the chair, his legs crossed now.

“A very high standard, but I’m aware that some will not meet them no matter how hard they try.” In contrast to King Candy, Sour Bill was rather humanitarian towards those servants less capable and would sometimes even step in to take over their job before assigning them to a manageable task. Towards those who _could_ meet the high standards, the man would become more firm in case they slacked off but never threatened them with corporal punishment. In general he would debase no one, and quite honestly he was well liked by just about everyone.. except his manager.

Bill’s jaw worked discreetly before he added after a long, heavy pause, “Maybe you have to be in their position to understand that.” Very calm. It wasn’t said as an obvious threat; perhaps he wished that his King could become more empathetic.

His legs spread in a more casual manner, leaning in with his elbows propped up on his legs before a sigh. Hands meshed together again. The head servant didn’t tear away his gaze away from the ruler of Sugar Rush once. “I’m, sorry. But we’re not perfect, Candy.”

 

Candy was a little taken aback at Bill's change in relaxed posture. His own body mirroring his servant's as to not be out done.

The King smiled for a brief moment at the admittance that his standard couldn't be met. However, it fell to a neutral mask when Bill continued on. He had expected him to be done talking and not have more to add. To be submissive and just agree. Sadly, he hoped too much for this behavior and clearly Sour Bill needed to be reminded of his place.

Eyes widened just a hair at Bill's next statement though. 'In THEIR position?!?!' that phrase echoed loudly in a din through his mind. 'They're lucky I don't have them use the Fungeon to sleep in at night and be served gruel! I had to claw my way up. Learn coding on the fly when I had nothing, not even a home anymore.' The Racer thought rapidly.

The King reminded himself none of them, NO ONE, could ever find out about his past. The truth behind the crown. Countenance not quite containing a hint of anger. His rose eyes seemed to almost take on a tinge of yellow. For only a hairs breath. If Bill was truly watching his King, he'd have maybe caught the slight glitch.

Candy was forced to blink for a long moment as he exhaled a tired sigh. Standing up and walking over a little carelessly to one of the golden trophies that, while looking it had belonged to Sugar Rush, was disguised as such. You see, he did have another reason no one was allowed to touch the things in his office. Mementos. Pieces and bits of his past cleverly hidden but would reveal their true shapes if handled too much or too often. But would revert back quickly after. His eyes reflected on the golden fake toffee surface of the trophy. Causing his irises to be a bit hidden as well if they happened to shift in color.

His posture was slackened to a certain degree. Hands and arms folded neatly behind his back.

"No one is perfect, Bill. I should know." his tone rather lax. "That'sth why I want for it to be strived for, sought for." He shook his head side to side. "Kindness? Empathy? Even Sympathy? None of those will advance you ahead." Voice lowered to barely audible. His head hanging just a smidge more. "Where were those 'virtues' yearsth ago, hm?" Seemingly talking to the air rather than the servant in the room.

 

“…” Bill was capable of staring monotonously for what could be a couple minutes before his eyes needed a refresher. He caught the small bit of color and furrowed his brows finally as his King shut them for more than a second, before resuming the usual. He wanted to say that this was merely a trick of the light through the stained glass window bouncing off an object, or his constant lack of sleep. But the shade of yellow was.. unnatural, now that his eyes made a quick scan of the objects of the mess between them.

By now, Candy was already gazing at his trophies, which mind needed a good but light dusting. He stayed in his seat a bit longer to catch another glimpse of bright lemon. Nothing like before. As the servant stood up on his own he overheard a tone of voice that wasn’t expected. The weirdest thing—he came across not as a sovereign ruler of a kingdom, but a regular citizen. Sour Bill kept his distance after he approached his King. Maybe they disagreed on what their definitions were for perfection…

_Where were those virtues years ago..?_

Good eyes and good hearing, “.. You’re contradicting yourself. Maybe all of that won’t ‘advance’ one ahead because you’ve never implemented them, as far as I _remember_.” Bringing them back to a shady point of their shared past got Bill to visibly frown, “You’ve cut off our memories so I don’t know if you WERE different back then. You obviously did not care about that girl’s safety, either. As far as I can tell you’ve always been a..” Trailing off failing to complete his sentence.

As his hands were relaxed on his sides this whole time, they formed into fists by the end of his dialogue. Tongue in cheek, arms crossed another as Bill stared off to his side to nothing, darkened features now prominent. “If this was all you wanted to talk about, then unlock the door and let me leave.”

There really was no point to this conversation if they were going to run circles for the next several minutes. His superior had no desire to change his ways, he believed.

 

The King straightened up the instant that shady point was brought up. His hands crossing from his back to the front to hide fists that slowly formed. All of his body language tensed at Bill's words.

The part about the girl finally made him snap.

The air in the room became rather heated as words flew at an alarming rate through his mind. But rather than keeping them to himself, he had had enough.

In an instant, Candy was at Bill's lapels of his shirt. Easily lifting him off the ground with the strength boost. Face contorted in sheer fury.

"You...." he breathed out as though it were fire, "..DON'T HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" Candy tossed Bill onto the messy desk and quickly grabbed at his arms. Pinning any attempt Bill would have at punching or pushing the enraged King off of him.

"YOU ARE NEVER, EVER TO SPEAK OF HER AGAIN!!!! YOU ARE TO OBEY AND SERVE ME!!! NOT FOLLOW WHAT YOU THINK YOU NEEDS TO BE DONE!!! YOU ARE NOT TO QUESTION THE KING!" he raged in Bill's face. His own eyes clearly flashed another peek of yellow.

 

Although his eyes widened at the instance his collar was pulled forward, they settled back into calm even as his lower back felt a pang of sharp pain—at this point he was more concerned with the state of his vest than of his body. His brows quirked in growing focus and interest at King Candy’s crazed reaction, coupled with the same near highlighter yellow. No way was it the trick of the light as the sun was beginning to sink into the horizon. 

While this was a detail he had to take note of, his features in contrast to his superior were rather absent. That is, until a corner of his lips stretched to the side, “Clearly, Candy, you have anger management issues.” He thought instead, ‘Clearly, this is a highly sensitive topic for you and I’m very curious as to WHY’.

He wasn’t fond of having anyone in his personal space despite this musing, and about grit his teeth at having his arms incapacitated at the moment. “Get off.”

If Sour Bill felt any rising anger, it was nothing but white noise in his head while his heavily neutral expression was a protective mask. Not to be taken over so easily, his stronger leg took a kick at the shin and, without thinking ahead, took the knee into the other’s stomach to try and slip away.

 

Candy wasn't in control now. His rage was. The very same temper that had driven him into jealousy. As well as Road Blasters.

"ISSUES?! HAHA! HOO HOO! I'LL SHOW YOU 'ISSUES'!!" he continued on, at this point growling almost animal like. Before he could do anything further, he backed off a step from being kneed in the gut.

Clutching at his stomach and seething with a burning stare at Bill. He wasn't going to stay off of him long though.

As quick as could be, Candy slammed all the strength and weight he had into Sour Bill to pin his front to a book case. Making sure he couldn't use his legs to get him out again. His arms restrained against a cruel steel grip.

Voice lowered to something of a dangerous tone. A tone he'd only used once before, but it was with Duncan and Wynchel when they were looking for Vanellope and suggested she might've 'Gamed Over' permanently.

"No one gives orders around here except me. No one questions the King unless they wish to be erased." He leaned his mouth close to Bill's ear so he wouldn't possibly forget, "I'm the greatest there is and no one will out do me." He tightened his hold on Bill to push the point. "Understand yet?"

 

Stuck in a rut. Bill tried his best to conceal a strained laugh as his boss’ demeanor ran cold, “You can’t handle being challenged, Sire?”

Looking as if he lacked more sleep than usual, he resumed eye contact after staring off into the rest of the study, finding comfort with dead objects more than beings. “I understand completely.”

Curious or not, his King was giving him an enticing option. Head leaning against the bookshelf, lucky to not have had a concussion from earlier, he smiled in a modest, casual manner.

“Then, go ahead and erase me. You couldn’t do it with Vanellope.. And, even IF you could, it would be better being gone than having to work for you.” His green eyes shining, metallic and dulled all at once. He had to stop himself from blowing stray strands of his hair off his face from the force exerted on him.

Something inside him refused to extend a helping hand to this stubborn man. It indulged in seeing Candy lose control through the servant’s doing. Whatever the consequence he heaped on top of himself, it was a win-win situation.

 

Candy was about to break Bill's arm with a twist at that statement of 'not being able to handle a challenge.' He could beat ANY challenge! That snide son of-!!!

But then, Bill admitted to understanding. Whether or not it was sarcasm, Candy couldn't tell due to the abhorrence he had for Bill at the moment. Which, Bill made his hatred worse for him with his next words.

Throwing Bill to the ground and grabbing a thick halved jaw breaker paper weight from his desk, Candy used all his strength to hit Bill in the back of the head. It felt great to do so! So much so, Candy hit the back of Bill's head a few more times and just as hard as the first. With the full intent of knocking Bill out. He also was high on the feeling of overpowering Bill, who was supposed to be submissive in the first place.

Once Bill was knocked out, Candy heaved him into the chair he was in earlier. Using a hard candy chain to lock Bill to the chair and give Candy a bit of extra time. Time to go and follow through on Bill's dare. 'Then, go ahead and erase me.'

 

Sour Bill didn’t give so much as a sigh as his King nearly bashed his head in with this paperweight. His eyes fluttered straining to keep awake. The man felt himself forced and chained to his seat as his head pulsed in and out of consciousness. If he managed to get a serious concussion by the assault, so be it.

King Candy was going to do exactly what he threatened for being an insubordinate. That about brought a smile to his face as, again, he felt at that moment that he had little to lose… Those eyes though. How, fascinating really—flashing at the midst of his outburst.

Yellow eyes.. That girl.

The mind drifted with no direction to the most random things, he believed. Colors and shapes into the following: frills, dresses and coats. Oh, no; the floor in the hallway was never cleaned up. Licorice rope and code.. Free floating. The subtle scent of,

“V-Vanellope.. what happened…?”

A hand or two, now he couldn’t tell, reached to the desk or at least tried to. His weight shifted too far ahead and to the side. A seemingly blind or drunken being toppled the chair over sending him down on the hard floor again, but with paper crumpled within his shaking grasp.

“D-do it, Candy.”

The servant finally blacked out after sudden series of emerald green glitches invading his drooped eyesight.


	3. Chapter 3

Candy was mortified that Bill was still conscious. At least, that was his impression of the other. Instead, Bill was still fading in and out. Mumbling incoherently. However, Candy did catch him saying 'Vanellope.' At which, Candy raised the paper weight to strike him again. But, Bill fell over, still chained to the chair and seemed to finally black out for the last time. Wasn't going to stop Candy from giving a swift kick to the back of his defiant.

Leaving his soon to be gone servant on the floor, he made a mad dash for the door. Not bothering at all with keeping up appearances as he was livid! Glitching through the locked door and looking about like a wild man. Spying a large plush sweets chair, he shoved it in front of office door in case Bill had second thoughts about his final request. 'Do it, Candy.' echoed through the Racer's mind. Driving him to the heart of Sugar Rush; the Code room.

Only 2 beings had ever been down here, and only one had ever been inside with the data that made up their world. That same singular being was now bolting straight to the throne room, completely ignoring the staff's stares as he went. Hair messed up and sticking out at odd angles, bowtie crooked along with the crown and his whole attire somewhat disheveled. He didn't give two fucks what anyone thought at the moment! Let them stare! He'll delete them too!

Finally he breached the red curtains that hid the elevator. The elevator that led his highness down to where the life blood of the game existed. And where Bill was to meet his demise. Tying a red licorice rope around his waist, Candy secured it to one of the pulsing blue bars on the tunnel's walls. Diving into the zero gravity as though it were water. Being so tensed, he didn't even notice how his disguise fell to reveal his true self; Turbo. Due to being so close to the core codes of the game, he couldn't keep it up.

Yellow eyes searched and searched. Darting here and there and all in between. He spent several frustrating minutes until he spied "Sour Bill" with his icon of a neutral looking face. One that could be mistaken for annoyance or sternness. Swimming over, he grabbed the box and....and...

....stared at it.

He spent so much of his steam just scrambling to get down here, Turbo found it a little hard to muster up the strength to even yank a single cord out. He should be doing this with no hesitation! Yet, something was holding him back. The longer he waited, the more his conscious self caught with him. Briefly tensing when remembering Bill's words.

"Why...did he so willingly say all of that?" asking aloud to no one in particular. It bugged Turbo that Bill was ready to die. So easily.

Too easily.

The more he thought about this whole mess, the more Turbo began to question if Bill ever wanted to live in the first place. He had heard of characters who never wanted to exist and would go through countless death cycles until they figured out you could die permanently outside your own game. But Bill never showed any indications of this. As far as he knew.

What did he know about the servant who blindly did what he was asked, hm? And for that matter, why now has Bill been successful in getting under the Racer's skin? Turbo had to know.

He had to know so he could keep Bill under his thumb. Where he belonged broken. But....

...what would break someone who was ready to die?

 

Sour Bill was by no means a suicidal man. As he entertained the notion of homicide for a split second with a detached air, he had also thought of himself committing suicide but never with a concrete method. His purpose in life, he figured, was to be utilitarian—to be the embodiment of a mere tool. Through King Candy’s version of a ghost story to the kid racers he overheard on some night while polishing countess vases, long ago, he learned that one could really die and not come back if they did outside of their own game. For sure this might have been a way of ensuring that none of them got the smart idea to “Go Turbo” and force everyone else out of house and home through one character’s wrongdoing.

Although, that didn’t stop the Sugar Rush inhabitants from coming in and out of their game as they pleased, so long as they didn’t test the extent of safety in the other worlds. Hell, even the ruler of their kingdom occasionally took a stroll out of the box with little concern. Of course his head servant was never invited over, but that was just fine. His eyes preferred the familiar terrain and frankly going out would put him on edge. Everywhere he’d look he’d probably find something out of place or just messy and his cleanliness alarms would go berserk.

Well, he never tried so his experience could actually be positive and constructive for him—more knowledge to be gained.. Bill didn’t know as he put little thought to this. He wasn’t shy, but he wasn’t extraverted. Indeed—although he was a nice person to be around if one bothered to talk to him, the soft spoken demeanor only worked where emotional investment was not essential. Although following his noble ideals, his empathy was cold, lukewarm at best. Now, to feel absolute _sympathy_ , this proved to be extremely difficult. It required all surging and release of emotions that proved laughable the split second it popped into his mind. He never felt the need to attach and cling to anyone, and this was to him a strength that most others couldn’t dream of, or would want to have.

A life to be truly alone, sure, but not lonely.

.. Then what was his complacency from earlier, that threat being taken so lightly and accepted so willingly?

Truth to tell, he was worn down. But a scrap of pride refused to remove his own self from the picture but was open to any alternatives. This seemed like the perfect way to go, even at the wrathful hands of His Majesty.

His Majesty…. Something was wrong. A part of him knew it and stood by it, believing that his good nature was disrupted if not now partly corrupted by the very existence of his King. The blackening part of him that relished the anger rising up in Candy—it was best in that instant he challenged the other to delete him, that IT be put to rest immediately.

 

The only way, as far as the racer could figure out on his own, was to ask Bill why. Why would he go to such lengths to cause someone to end his very existence?

Turbo took a deep breath and blew it out. Combing his fingers absently through the black follicles as he stared into the files of his assistant's code box. There was no real damage overall to the files and contents. However, as he flipped through some of the deeper files, he found something VERY unsettling. Possibly even the reason for Bill's behavior.

Somehow, someway, Bill corrupted a chunk of his files pertaining to his personality and consciousness. Folders and icons charred as though they had been burned. Not from any external force though. All internal damage from within Bill's code box itself. Turbo knew enough coding to know if a worm or virus was the cause. The cause of this damage though was Bill's own doing.

Turbo had heard tales of character's code boxes becoming corrupted from so much stress being put on the character's emotions and/or mentality, but this was the first solid piece of evidence to support said stories.

Sadly, this only left him more questions than answers. If anything, he'd clean up what useless minor files he could from Bill's box while he was here. "At leastht MAYBE give'em a clearar head ta think with." mumbling to himself as he picked and pulled away the broken bits.

Closing off his servant's code box, he swam over to his own. Opening it briefly to reset his disguise. Then, he located the servant's code boxes who saw him tearing his way through the castle earlier. A quick picking of a memory from their Temporary Memory files was all it took for the servants to forget what they saw today of an angered King. Had they gone to bed though and slept, their Temp Memory would've been transferred to their Internal Memory Bank. Making it a hundred times more difficult for Candy to just take and delete what he wanted forgotten.

His pot returned to a cooled simmer and no longer did he have an urge to kill. Instead, self-serving curiosity took its place.

Swimming to the code room's exit, the King closed the door and locked it. Taking the elevator up, the King fixed his bowtie and crown in the reflection of the double doors. Stepping quickly, but with a slight skipping jog, King Candy made his way back to the barricaded office. Passing purposely by the other servants who saw how angry he was earlier to see how they acted.

Each servant was helping one another clean and organize one the parlor rooms. Without fail, the servants greeted the King and bowed in unison. None of them showing any signs of fear or terror. No frowning or even so much as a worried look. The King was staring though which got the attention of a servant who was on the step ladder changing a light bulb. "Is there something we could assist you with sire?" the simple candy uniformed servant asked. Her tone was polite and not forced Candy could tell even when someone was forcing out words, even if by a little bit.

Shaking his head, "Hoo hoo! No, no, I'm al-right. You all keep up the great work! Toodlesth~" Going back to jogging/walking to his office with a fake smile plastered on his face to keep from being interrupted. He was also smug in the knowledge the servants had no clue he was furious not even an hour or so ago.

Taking away the chair, Candy unlocked his office door with the keys he always kept on his person. Inside, the room still looked like a wreck. More so than usual with papers on the floor. Also the tied up unconscious servant too.

Wishing he had the forethought to just teleport Sour Bill's body to his bedroom before he left the code room, Candy proceeded to undo the chains on him. Lifting his body to sling an arm over his shoulders, he toted Bill back to his servant's bedroom. Making sure to take a route through the castle that avoided anyone possibly seeing them.

Once in the small bedroom, Candy groaned a little as he laid Bill on his single sized bed. Rubbing his neck and stretching, "Geez, what DO you weigh, a gigaton?" asked rhetorically. Knowing full well Bill was going to be out like a light for a while yet.

Sighing to himself, he closed the bedroom door and looked about for a place to sit. The room was hardly considered, at least to the racer, a bedroom. Sure, there was a closet, a nightstand, a bathroom, a small desk and yes, the bed, but it was compact, Not at all like Candy's luxurious bedroom.

Candy yawned a little and looked to the desk's chair. It looked uncomfortable but it would have to do. He pulled it out and positioned it so the back of the chair was facing Bill. Candy swung a leg over and sat open legged towards Bill. Folding his arms and leaning on them as he watched his servant sleep. The adrenaline had worn off by now and Candy was tempted to nap.

But awake he stayed. Watching and waiting for Bill to become conscious once more.

 

Maybe a couple or three hours went by in silence, before the almost non-existent breath picked up slowly, but surely. Nothing was going on in Sour Bill’s head except the heavy abyss which his subconscious swam through. While the weight was lifted no solid images were capable of forming. Avoiding a vivid dream or two was a great thing to have at this moment—nothing ever made sense in those scattered remnants of thought and vision.

.. But why would he be floating at all?

_I’m, asleep..?_

Hands reached out to touch air but felt something cool and soft; it was still very dark. The man was confused, as last time he checked.. “Last time…” Feeling the voice vibrate his cords, the breathing became a small, sharp gasp that didn’t wake him just yet. His temples pulsed and his brows lowered when a palm brushed over textile. “Uh.” Eyelids fought to stay heavy and closed over his gloomy sight. It didn’t matter much; stinging and dry eyes couldn’t make out much detail at all in random shapes, much less color.

Bill didn’t get up; his neck swayed just a bit only to notice someone else was there close by. The dim glint of a crown was all he needed. It couldn’t be..!

_Where am I?_

When sharpness of the image returned the brows lowered a millimeter more and facial muscles made him squint minimally.. Candy couldn’t do it. His King, sitting open legged on the desk’s chair of what was now his humble bedroom, couldn’t do it. The servant was alive after all in their drab environment. This blasted place!

When the slight headache became a full on migraine, his body reacted accordingly and lifted itself to lean against the backboard, hand and fingers working to rein it in. “Oh.” Tiny grumble of a sound before a withered sigh.

 

As time passed, the King took a few naps in between the hours. Rather rested; he rarely needed more than a few hours himself when needing energy.

His patience was dually rewarded with the initial movements of his 'servant'. Having clearly beginning to wake up, the King himself was roused from a thoughtless meditation. Having allowed a sort of static to filter through his mind instead of being fully awake. Sitting up straighter in the chair and resting his fingers over the back of said chair. Rose irises urging the man in the bed awake now.

Within the next few minutes, Bill was propped up against his head board and rubbing at his head. Oh. Right. He forgot to mend that before leaving the code room. Ah well, it gave something the King could joke about.

...

He could joke about, but wasn't about to. The pain was satisfying for the King to see on Bill's face. Even the small grumble gave him a boost he sorely desired to have over this 'servant' of his. Maybe he should use his announcer voice that he uses down at the track? Certainly would up the discomfort Bill was feeling right now.

Alas, all the monarch did was reach over to the single lamp that lit the room and dimmed it enough to help Bill. Rather than show more violence, Candy was willing to try this 'sympathy' with Bill. It WAS Bill's suggestion in the first place. Besides, he wanted answers and beating them out of Bill wouldn't work.

After a few long moments of waiting for Bill to hopefully adjust, the King asked in the quietest voice he could use, "How...are you feeling?" His expression didn't match the words. Looking bored almost. His eyes though, they were locked to Bill's face. The pain on Bill's face was enjoyable to a degree. But, the only way Candy knew how to show 'concern' was by staring.


	4. Chapter 4

Through a couple of his fingers did he take short notice of his King’s faked worry for his sorry state. Okay, he was better than before having apparently rested in limbo; still. Within the seconds of recognizing his “friend’s” existence, Bill swiveled himself so that his legs hung on the side of the mattress, his back to King Candy. He slumped over despite trying to catch oxygen in deflated lungs, and gulped some down quietly in that intent. For now he was trapped here.. Ah, well…

He sniffed up a bit of yerba buena, mint, disinfectant within the cubicle of a space and it coupled with an odor that reminded him of his sweetly stained vest to which he groaned, clearly annoyed. Sour Bill proceeded to unbutton and remove his outer key lime green and gold-lined covering to take a look at it in their limited glow. His irritation sealed his lips shut and forced him to close dulled eyes, breathing out slowly. Placing it on his lap, the servant loosened the first couple buttons of his dress shirt knowing well how permeable said vest was. All this time he had been ignoring the question Candy had asked more than a minute ago and soon it would probably be half an hour.

Still failing to face the other, Bill tossed the garment into a nearby hamper and blindly fished out a hot-pressed replacement shirt and vest; there happened to be five sets of them among other clothing for certain events in the game such as arcade holidays. Obviously this man was not the overly festive type. Occasionally, he did catch himself a bit content while seeing the kid racers having the time of their lives which would immediately subside into neutrality, for a number of reasons.

One of those reasons was probably glaring fiercely at him by now; Sour Bill didn’t bother to check going into the bathroom and paralleling the door with a desultory pull of the handle. The light in here was aversive and the worker had to blink his eyes for a bit to adjust, dark hand suited to be a visor. The mirror revealed a shoddy version of himself and this had to be corrected. No way was he going to let his crew know what had gone on between him and Candy; this colorful kingdom didn’t need more gossip than it already had.

The blemished shirt came off and the new one was on just as quick. Bill thanked mods alive that his dark green slacks and brown loafers survived for the most part, although he had to take a dry towel to them to be rid of the dust from the Study. He adjusted the pale gold toffee buckle of a near-black leather fruit roll belt before donning his signature piece harboring the connotation of “Sour”.

Bill took great care in not spilling water droplets on his changed attire while rinsing his face, slightly gaunt features looking as if some youth were injected. Perhaps being knocked out cold for hours _was_ beneficial after all; his sleep schedule varied and all-nighters were no stranger.

A quick comb to tame his unruly strands and an adjusting tug to his collar, and Bill strode out of the bathroom with the light now off. Walked right past his desk and out the door of his room, only to return to the place he had been cleaning before their disastrous meeting. No longer seeming to care about the minute details, he got to sweeping generally to the best of his ability. Then he’d have to take a mop to it.. Much time was wasted, so this task was losing the servant’s attention.

“…”

 

Candy waited and observed with an alerted look to his now awakened servant. How he moved and apparently decided to change clothes first rather than answer his question. He was tempted to glare but found no energy to do so. Oh sure, he COULD must up the energy if he really wanted to. But, after all was said and done, he was starting to wear down. He’d had a few short naps before Bill had awoken but, this was a different weariness. Candy was tired.

Not just tired in the physical sense, but in the emotional and metaphorical senses as well. True, even as Sour Bill seemed to be buying himself time by primping and cleaning himself up to be more presentable, the King’s mind wandered instead of focusing on getting an answer to his question. Folding his arms over the top of the chair, he leaned on them and rested his eyes for a moment or two. Opening them again and snapping to a straight sitting up position only when he heard busy foot falls leave the room. Leaving Candy completely alone in Bill’s very humble living space, if it could even be considered that.

Sighing, he stood up and stretched his back, feeling stiff all over. He needed a lavender oatmeal bubble bath with brown maple sugar candles and a special someone-he immediately shook the thought from his head. Well, not completely. A bath did feel like a good way to end this nightmare of a day. Nothing went Candy’s way. Bill was obsessed with….”Where did he get to anywaysth?” the monarch muttered under a breath. Half sounding curious, the other half sounding tired. Rotating his shoulders and cracking his fingers as they were interlaced to help stretch his arms at the same time above his head, King Candy left Bill’s very modest, if not plain, bedroom.

It didn’t take him long to locate his missing servant. He was back at the same hallway they had encountered, or rather Candy had tracked him to, earlier. Continuing exactly where he had left off. The King had to give Bill a little credit; the man knew how to clean. Bill was well on his way to nearly being 3/4th’s the way done in this hall. Sighing quietly, Candy watched his servant with a bored expression. But, his patience picked then to run out. He’s tired, upset, churned inside and outwards to his mentality and just wanted one last answer! Was that too much to ask?! Apparently so as Bill continued to clean on.

Rather than start another argument, or possible fight, Candy huffed and brisked his way back to Bill’s room. There, he opened the drawer to Bill’s nightstand next to his single bed. Not even bothering to sit down to write, Candy quickly nabbed the pad of note paper and pen from the drawer and wrote a note. It read, “-Bill, Please write me your answer and bring it by my office tomorrow. Depending on your answer, I’ll see about” Candy stopped writing. More like pausing really to think of what he could offer the cleaning obsessed servant. Sighing, he knew it was an empty promise and would have no reason to even give it a try, he continued to write, “I’ll see about following your advice in changing how I, King Candy, treat the servants that don’t meet my standards. -K.C.” He finished with his initials in curved and loopy handwriting that no one else could manage to pull off. Leaving the note on Bill’s pillow, Candy stowed the notepad and pen back in the drawer and left for his own bedroom.

He was done for the day. As he went down the hallway Bill was working on, Candy mentioned to him passing, “Left ya a note on your pillow. *yawn* I’m turning in for the night. Random Roster Racthe can go on without me tonight. I’m outta gas.” Before Candy completely left the hall, he added, “I don’t want to be disthturbed for the restht of the night.” Saying this as an order rather than a suggestion. He finally disappeared from sight, presumably headed for his luxurious bedroom that had a large bathroom, complete with said bubble bath and candles he thought about earlier.

After his near hour long bath, the King went to bed for the night, drifting off to the ever looping theme of Sugar Rush.

 

The unwilling employee gave a single nod of confirmation to what the boss had just said, “Left ya a note.” Like other mental echoes he shoved it to the side to continue his sweeping. Afterwards a bucket, nestled in the corner so as to not trip anyone, was filled to the brim with water siphoning from the empty bedroom’s bathroom sink and slurry of cleaning fluid and bleach. The mop soaked into the solution for some seconds before Bill gave the handle a strong twirl in between his palms so that it spiraled out flat on the ground before commencing rather aggressively, leaning forward to get momentum going. He took care not to breathe in the fumes to prevent higher risk of brain damage other than what was endured earlier. By the end of the chore the back of his head was stabbed—or at least it felt like it—before it jutted away just as quick. He’d have to make sure not to lie on his back for a long while. “.. Agh.”

For a silly old man he had quite a bit of, strength, that wasn’t usual given his—Sour Bill shook the idea off and stored away his materials in a carrying case, balancing out his broom and mop with the same limb, with the bucket suspended down the stairs with the other hand. Its contents were drained down a drain in the basement near the Fungeon and the supplies were placed into storage.

He wasn’t able to get back to his room until the old time fruit, nut and chocolate clock struck the second hour of the morning, 1:00. Earlier, he took time off to brew tea to calm the nerves, albeit only slightly considering his baseline for energy was low compared to others. Especially King Candy. What he found odd was that after their failed attempt at compromise, hands didn’t tremble. The mug was extremely easy to handle than other times.

Bill then saw a ginger candy servant in his path back upstairs, one that was assigned to the night shift having a wide grin happy to see his superior—“Hello!” His infectious and genuine jovial demeanor got a smile out of the other, “Hello.”

“It’s one of those nights again eh?” Stepladder crooked on a stray appendage.

“Sure is.” With an easy tone as though this day was normal.

“Did you hear? The King wasn’t at the track tonight.”

“Oh?” Blinking out of convincing curiosity.

“They waited for a while; five minutes tops—them donut security guards took up the podium—that race was a close one between Minty Zaki and Rancis I heard.”

It seemed as if everyone in the kingdom was an enthusiast of the adrenaline rush via driving. Sour Bill had little interest in teaching himself how; his constant access to the multitude of karts for spot cleaning enticed no temptation. Besides his legs provided efficient transportation; he didn’t look it but if an emergency ever came up he would be at the scene at breaking speed. “At least, the race was realized.”

“Yes!” Eyes lighting up amused, “ _Might you_ have a clue as to why His Majesty didn’t show up? I mean he does see you often.” Bill’s eyes hazed over suddenly looking in need to turn in, “Like all of us, the King does need his rest.” Adding empty words with slight emotion, “He works very hard to keep things running smoothly here. He deserves a break once in a while.” Closing the statement with brows knit to show mild sadness coupled with nostalgia.

“.. True..!” The ginger candy shifted the weight to his other side, “Well I’ll be seeing you some other time, Sir.”

“Night, Snap.”

“Morning!” More awake than ever and ready go.

“Yes, you’re right. Morning then.” Single wave as he turned his heel.

Bill about stumbled over on his desk’s rung back inside the room. Grunting out a couple unintelligible words he pushed it over to its designated area, tugging at it and giving small shoves until it looked decent. “Stay.” Like an owner to their dog. He finally took note of the scrap on his pillow, reading it aloud while imagining the King still in the room with him, rolling his eyes upward to King Candy’s unneeded signature. Answer what question? What was it.. “How are you feeling?”

_How am I feeling?_

“Rummaging in my drawer does annoy me.” Picking up the pad inside along with the pen, methodically uncapping it and placing said cap on the other end. He unplugged his lamp and found another outlet for a better light source upon his desk. Needing a hard surface to write, he tore the top sheet off the pad and angled it before taking the tip of the pen to sharp writing, slanted to the right indicating confidence and finality although the words he’d write down could amount to utter nonsense,

“ _As of late my head is in slight pain, if you are asking how I’m feeling physically. My neck and back are aching and as per usual my sleeping habits are ill-practiced and ingrained into routine. (Right now I’m jotting this note down at_ ”

Glancing over at his bedside caramel clock—

“ _1:05AM. Forgive that I couldn’t get this to your office by morning.) If, however, you are asking what I’m feeling on the emotional level then I have no idea._ ” Emphasizing the word ‘emotional’ with a hatch of an underline that cut through the top of the next line in his paragraph,

“ _I’ve never had an idea. Given what has just happened in your Study you can be certain that I’m not content._ ”

He ran out of room on this side; flipping it over to continue, “ _I understand that the words we exchanged apart from our actions have taken a toll on you prompting your need for rest._ ”

. . . . .

“ _I apologize for having driven you to such high levels of stress and subsequent thoughts pertaining to my state of being. I can assure you that I will remain well and be diligent in my assigned tasks as before. For this there is no need for your intervention. Thank you for your concern._ ”

Although he had some room left near the bottom of the sheet, he pulled out yet another piece, “ _If you are serious about discussing the matter at hand this time I would prefer starting it at your breakfast hour later today. Of course if you’re dreadfully busy just let me know. I won’t hold you up for it as again I know that your being King does steal time away from you._ ”

Bill capped the pen although he wasn’t finished and read over the letter of a note over for any flagrant nuances, before shrugging it off to write his last few sentences,

“ _The fact that you have left me alive has, admittedly, piqued my interest and this makes me close to_ ”

Flipping the page to its back,

“ _believing that there are more layers to your being than what I have thought before. Perhaps in a distant future—who knows—we can set aside our differences and come up with a solution to our current problem._ ”

Problems. plural.

“ _Thank you for letting me know about your thought in a non-coercive way. To a hope that our next meeting will not amount to overt conflict,_ ”

Then a broken cursive signature that was italicized with such passion that it nearly crushed flat even in its larger space of a line, “ _Sour Bill_ ”

A single exhale for his end.

Dating both his and King Candy’s notes before capping the pen again. Dropping it into the open drawer along with the pad and the original note…

Taking the pad and utensil out again to scratch out nearly illegible scrawls, “ _yellow lemon eyes Vanellope enraged at discussing our past couldn’t kill when having the chance Code Room get code had trouble speaking sounded somber depressed has underlying issues which might surface again given the opportunity—He’s weak!_ ”

Ripping that out burying it at the bottom of his stationary and his supplies, pushing the rolling drawer with sudden force so it banged its wall.

The servant got up and sped walked to his master’s office to leave the note right on the untouched handkerchief.

He closed and locked the door to his bedroom, undressing and tossing his shirt and vest onto the desk for later use. A quick hot shower preceded getting ready for bed finally. It was almost 2:00AM. Bill clicked off his light and slipped into the covers wearing a simple pair of dark flannel pants. Wasn’t near winter so..

Sighing out a resigned air, side of his face buried in the pillow. Due to his sustained head injury the best way to sleep for now would have to be on his stomach. His brain panged a little before waning. Mind trying to relax and disassociate to slumber.

Abrupt shock throughout his body indicating near sleep…

Despite what happened he had no excuse to avoid work. 5:30AM alarm was set.


	5. Chapter 5

The King awoke before the arcade was due to open at 10 am. He was up at 9 am, just an hour before opening. Today all that was required of him was to spectate the races since he wasn't involved in them the night prior. That was thanks to a certain green themed head servant.

Before he headed for the track, all dressed up in his typical Kingly attire, he stopped by his office to nab his handkerchief. He used that for when he raced so his face wasn't dirtied up by chocolate dust. That way, he looked his best. As he was about to duck out though, a note caught his eye.

Grabbing the note, he stuffed it into his pocket to read later. Too much in a hurry to get to the race track. Arcade was due to open in a half hour. Then, what was to follow was 8 hours of revving engines, sugary air and loud cheering. All throughout, Candy announcing and commenting about how the racers were doing. On the surface, acting jovial and bubbly, as though he hadn't a care in the world.

On the inside though, Candy was still trying to figure out how to gain control over Bill. This was proving to be more of an annoyance than challenge.

After the Arcade closed, Candy held the Random Roster Race. Again, much to everyone's surprise, he bowed out of participating in. "Now, now, sthettle down everyone! Asth we all know, it'sth the beginning of school year stho, the Arcade isth going to be less busthy than the usual. I, King Candy, am taking a small break from racthing to work on making sthure EVERYONE isth, isth prepared for when Sugar Rush goesth through the stheasonal change." Announcing loudly and in a semi-serious, but mostly calming tone. Everyone looked to one another and applauded, having understood what the King meant.

As far as they, the racers and citizens understood it, their King was having to deal with making sure everyone knew the rules before winter time. As far as the King was concerned though, he would be busy with his own devices while guards and other servants under him would go door-to-door to help out the Sugar Rush denizens get ready for the winter.

It hadn't even gotten cold yet, let alone nippy. But, Candy was busy internally with deciding what to do with Bill. So, what better way to buy time than to start the winter prep? The castle would be mostly vacant, save for the King and his head servant while everyone else was busy.

Having already left the track for the castle, Candy parked in the garage and made his way up stairs. Once at the top, he caught the attention of a nearby servant. "Yes sir?"

"Can you tell me where Bill isth at the moment?"

The servant smiled for a moment before replying, "Yes sir. Sour Bill is cleaning in the East side of the castle, sir."

"Carry thisth message to him: King Candy requeststh that Sthour Bill join the King for dinner at..." he paused, looking at his cookie pocket watch, "...7 o'clock sharp. And it'sth man-da-tory. Got it?"

The candy themed servant nodded and curtsying before quickly running off into the east side of the castle. Candy shoved his hands into his pockets in mild frustration as he tried to...think....His hand grasped around something that felt like paper. Pulling it out of his pocket, he remembered the note he grabbed earlier. He began to read it to himself.

....

After about a half hour went by of reading and re-reading the long note, Candy blew out a breath he didn't know he was holding. '...more layers to your being than what I have thought before.' Candy thought hard about that line in particular. That could mean so many things! It didn't help Candy at all that Bill was as emotionless in his writing than when he was talking. Resetting Sour Bill seemed to be growing more and more tempting for the King.

Thinking inwardly, 'I left you ALIVE because deleting you is a hassle and locking up more memories would cause the game to become corrupted!' He sighed out a breath as he made his way to the dining hall. He could smell the dinner that was being made, but the rest of him was elsewhere. 'Feh! Set aside differences! It's not so hard to follow orders. Don't think I didn't catch that plural "problems". You're the only problem right now and I absolutely HATE problems!'

Falling into his ornate cushioned chair at the head of the long dinner table, Candy fixed a dull look on his face as he continued to think. '"Not amount to conflict", is he naïve!? I'd rather like to Game him Over at least a dozen times by racing my kart over him. Maybe THEN he'll respect me like he should.' A dark grin grew across the King's visage. He quickly shook it away as he blinked hard a few times and relaxed his face some. Sighing a little tiredly.

He decided to close his eyes and sit back a little in his chair as he awaited his head servant and the food to show. Dinner wasn't to be served until 7 anyways. It was nearing 6 o'clock. The King could try to relax while he waited.

......................

The candy themed servant located Sour Bill. Upon coming up to him, she curtsying and said, "Sir Bill, King Candy requests you join him for dinner at 7 o'clock sharp and that it is mandatory. It is currently," she glanced at her watch, "6:10 pm."

 

By the time afternoon came around, Sour Bill was mildly disillusioned as King Candy didn’t even so much as given him an “I can’t talk with you right now” getting out of the castle for the day and passing him right by.. Had he even read the letter? Probably just overslept and was in a hurry. That was understandable. 

The more he thought about yesterday and early morning, after glancing over the frenzied scrawls on his personal sheet of paper, the more aghast he was finding himself being. Bill had to admit to himself that he was a fool in physically attacking, even in self defense, as he did. He should have just let his King beat him bloody and have the “meeting” done with. And setting aside the fact that King Candy couldn’t, wouldn’t—cannot delete him for whatever reason noble or selfish or just technical, he had the opportunity to erase these fresh memories of their excuse of a meaningful discussion.

Erase, or lock them up. Not again.

With that in mind he took a chance in possessing a fruit leather hardcover journal and writing down in as much detail as he could about what happened, time stamping the first entry as to not disorient himself, chronologically speaking. This was done in short bursts throughout the day in between his tasks in which he worked as well as ever. He took time to rewrite his spastic notes in more understandable phrases. His personal handwriting in general was as legible as a doctor’s note and just as slanted; at least he didn’t have to encrypt it some other way. Said journal was not going inside the drawer as well as the scrap. He had to find someplace else…

“ _Anger clouds the mind._ ” _Is it anger? Am I feeling anger, or was I? What is it now?_

“I, abhor feeling.” Deadest tone imaginable while staring onto the surface of a rock crystal sculpture he was wiping down with a cloth, “It ruins intellect. It ruins actions—and words, ‘abhor’. I ‘hate’, I ‘love’. I—” Shutting up to keep the peace and not to disturb any potential eavesdropper in the area. Bill had to stop talking to himself in times of rising anxiety. But there was no longer paralyzing fear; one of Candy’s worst punishments had already been given—keeping him alive was part of it—and he survived, save the low hum of pain and occasional spikes.

“.. I’ve been, unprofessional.” Hanging his head slightly in self-effacing shame before the neck shrieked for it to be put upright again, “Ay.”

After his eyes opened again from the strain he caught sight of a servant coming out of a little bow. He heard some menial words; what stood out was “King Candy” and “7:00”.

“Thank you for letting me know. I will be there earlier; can you tell him?” Better letting his supervisor know than to show up only to irk him more.

From here he set his supplies down and went towards his room to find and open the small book to its next blank page. What did Sour Bill know about “Vanellope”? She was a racer that King Candy tried to kill, in the same way that he would have gone. Her initial persistence to try and be in the race signaled a passion equal to that of the.. rightful ruler of Sugar Rush. “Code”. Coding. Who else knew of it? Conversations of the kingdom’s citizens, as varied and chock-full of outside information as they were, contained nothing of it. oh! The code was on a napkin with the word “Tapper’s”—Bill took chances in peering over his King’s shoulder; must be a place that Candy frequented in his spare time.

Time? 6:17.

Nothing lit up at the “yellow eyes”. Only that he had never seen it before now, when the King lost it…. What was wrong with him before that blowup?

6:20.

Bill sighed and tapped his pen cap on the entry for about a minute trying to get past a personal barrier and train of thought. It left him numb for a moment and then before he knew it his things had been put back into place. His feet shuffled to the door, closing it behind him and nearly ran down the steps to the ground floor. He would see his boss around 6:30.

The man was in meditation at the end of the ornate long table. The servant’s steps were quiet, stopping 5 chairs’ length from him.

“.. Cand—Sire; you wanted to see me?” Giving a short bow, hands loose but at his sides.

_Be professional. At least try, unless.._

His intent now was to just listen, giving commentary that wasn’t provoking of violence, if it were possible.

 

The candy themed servant nodded and she headed to the dining hall. 

Upon entering, she was hesitant to speak as the King appeared to be resting. But still, her supervisor DID ask her to let the King know his answer. Clearing her throat lightly in an “Ahem.” she waited until the sovereign ruler of Sugar Rush looked her way.

Candy’s thoughts had actually fizzled into somewhat of a pleasant place. A fantasy from within that was….nice. That was, until an abrupt sound from close by startled him. Jumping and waving his arms about in a goofy, albeit fruitless, attempt at protecting himself, “WAA-WHO?! WHA!? HUH!? HOO!..” After a moment of seeing it was the servant, he put back on the facade of a bubbly King.

“OH! Oh, hoo hoo! Ya, ya ACTUALLY made me jump a bit there, ahoo! I wasth justh havin a dream ah, about ah giant grizzly gummy bear about to chasthe me down and-” he paused a moment to clear his throat and fix his crown, jacket, and posture to look more official. “Well, neva mind that, I’m awake now ahoo! What isth it you need?” His fingers interlaced neatly out in front of himself. More like sheathed claws to anyone who was wise to this King’s true nature.

Alas, this simple servant didn’t see beyond his frontage. Bowing deeply as show of respect to the King, she said, “I am passing along a response from Head Servant Sour Bill; he said he would meet you at an earlier time than you requested.”

The only sign that Candy had actually heard the servant was his eyebrows lowering just a smidge at hearing his head of staff would show up early for dinner. He wanted food to be out and served before Bill got here so he could use chewing as an excuse to help with long pauses in their ‘conversation’ that was to take place.

Giving another chuckle, albeit a tad forced, he waved his hand in a shooing gesture to the girl. “Thank you for the responsthe, ahoo hoo! Now, now run along! I’m cthertain you have placthes to be cleaning and what not.”

The servant girl nodded and left this time to return to her repetitive tasks.

Candy relaxed and slumped deeply into his chair with a light grumble and a sour look on his face that could rival Bill’s once he was certain she was gone. Now left to stew in his anger and frustration. ‘Mental note: Change Bill’s title to sound less official and more ridiculous.’ A mean smirk graced the King’s face when he thought of some very R rated titles that would be demeaning and outright evil to use for Sour Bill.

Rubbing at his eyes and then temples, he sighed again and tried to relax again. He wished he could but upon glancing at the clock it was 6:10. Bill could show up literally any minute he chose to! Even to throw Candy off balance by showing up at a time not divisible by 5. Oh, Candy KNEW of how prompt Bill was and his obsessiveness to show up on the dot for only those minutes within the hour, if not at the top of the hour. But after yesterday though….

Shaking his head in an attempt to rid him of the memory, he tried to reassure himself, ‘No, no, no! Bill WOULDN’T stoop so low as to take advantage of my habits and how I depend on him!’ That thought only lasted maybe three seconds before Candy let his head fall onto the table in a fit of despair. Thankfully, his emotions were flighty and never really had time for them to take root into his conscious.

Straightening up in his chair, Candy looked to the clock again and only a meager 5 minutes rolled by. He wanted so badly to just get up, grab a dinner by tray and hole up in his room just to get away from everyone. ESPECIALLY Bill right now. He shouldn’t HAVE to wait on anyone else! He’s the KING! He’s number one around here and no one, but NO ONE, out does him!!!

Candy’s anger was about to reach boiling point until he looked about to take his frustration out on something! Ah yes, the windows. Grabbing his peppermint candy cane, he broke a couple sets of the tall windows that peeked to the back area of the castle that’s not visible to anyone unless they were given permission to go to the King’s private garden. After breaking the windows, he tossed any sugar glass that fell inside out the openings and closed the curtains to hide the damage for the time being. Feeling less likely to murder someone, he resumed sitting at the head of the table once more. Attempting to reach that place of peaceful meditation he was at before.

Looking to the clock again, it was 6:28 now. Maybe Bill was going to show up at 6:55? Maybe he was going to do it a minute before. Knowing full well how much it irked Candy to no end when-….

The King gave pause to his thoughts upon hearing footsteps approaching the doorway leading into the dining hall. His hands coming to rest at the arms of his ornate chair. Listening intently to Bill’s words and tone. He caught that slip up; he wasn’t about to let it go.

….

Then again, Bill hadn’t done anything outright yet to offend, save other than showing up at a non-specified time. He took a slow breath but didn’t bother to open his eyes. Instead, he kicked up a leg and leaned back a little bit more relaxed in his chair with his hands clasped up in front of the lower half of Candy’s face.

“Yesth. More specthifically, to talk about….the order of how thingsth are done around here.” Candy’s tone was calm and quiet. Which, was highly unusual for the man.

Gesturing with one open hand to the chair Bill stood by, “Pleasthe, take a stheat.”


	6. Chapter 6

Distancing from each other already. Sitting down 4 chairs away from the end of the table; this was going to be a hard evening to get by. Bill pursed his lips discreetly as he stood up again to angle the seat so that his neck wouldn’t suffer anymore than it had to. 

“.. Thank you.” Finally settling. Hands on the table in a visibly strong grip for some seconds until loosening, not bothering to look into his King’s eyes until he decided to talk. It wasn’t in Sour Bill’s place to confront him intensely and directly.

The man waited some long moments before he spoke to the table’s surface, “Sire; tell me the order of things here, in your kingdom.” Self-belittling himself used to be so much easier; his tone had to keep to that of a weak mumble, his body’s frame seeming collapsed. Luckily his heartbeat didn’t quicken, although a muscle or two might have tensed.

_This is your kingdom. I have no right to tell you what to do. I’m just a lowly servant._

Counterbalancing his mind’s dialogue with these words:

_You have no right to be cruel even “when necessary”. I’ve done more than enough in keeping one of your reign’s secrets safe for such a long time with no desire to question it overtly. Until now._

Green orbs were steadily becoming lackluster, even going a tinge gray if it were possible. Still avoiding eye contact with his master by default, while keeping his breathing normal but silent.

_Just listen._

 

The King remained quiet and listened as his head servant took his seat. He could hear fingers gripping tightly to the table for some moments before they relaxed away. His ‘guest’ was tense. Perhaps he may have regretted his reactions to his majesty yesterday? The direction from which Bill’s voice came seemed to further suggest this to be true. His tone though, belittling as it was, earned a frown from the King. He’d rather be the one to make fun of Bill rather than his servant to do it himself. Bill degrading himself only sucked the fun out of it for Candy.

After a long couple minutes passed, Candy finally let out a breath as his thoughts finally settled. He didn’t shift from his relaxed position save for opening his eyes to look at his servant. Bill’s appearance overall definitely seemed to scream something at the King. Regret? Guilt? Self-punishment? All of these were possibilities, but Candy didn’t feel quite convinced Bill would do such a 180.

His rose colored eyes went upwards to find the detailing in the ceiling more interesting than their topic of conversation. “Bill,” Candy began, his tone neutral, not forced to be calm as it was earlier, “asth it standsth of now, berating yoursthelf won’t stholve anything, let alone get usth anywhere fastht.”

Candy paused to rub at a temple, staring absently down the long table with Bill in his peripheral. “If, if change isth to happen….then, it can’t be one-sided. I mean, sthure, I’M the King! But,” his tone dipped to be somewhat quieted, “you know the servantsth betta than I do.” Another frown made itself very apparent on the King’s features.

Stretching his arms upwards and re-adjusting his seated position, Candy loathed what he was to say next; “I asthked for you to find out the bestht possible way to, to stheem more open and approachable to the servantsth and staff.” His tone sounded business-like rather than forced. If Candy treated this like business, perhaps then he could get more answers from Bill. 

 

While the King glanced to his side during his confession of an obvious fact, that he knew that his servant worked more closely with the others, Bill’s now knitted brows from the earlier comment seemed to relax, only to revert back to then melt into that blank slate of a face. 

His back finally adjusted itself to a proper way of sitting, hands forming into weak fists that lay crooked on the surface, “The best way to approach them is with knowledge that, much like you, they’re autonomous beings.” Getting out of his head for these moments of conversation, his tone non-condescending, and gratingly quiet near a whisper by the end of the last couple words. A pause before elaborating without having his superior straining to hear this time, “They do follow orders without question, but they’re aware of any situational nuances that don’t go beyond casual talk.. I do see that some are afraid.” Sharp silence; Sour Bill had failed to make direct eye contact before speaking and now he was clearly looking off to the side his mind threatening to surface with musings again.

_I was afraid of you!_

.. Thin brows furrowing slightly, “I contend, that you understand their limitations and don’t exploit your position of power to keep them in line.” This was an umbrella statement for anything Candy could do, including the ability to manipulate code; his body language or facial expression did not betray this minute detail. “If there is a problem and you become frustrated, and I understand more than ever that you do, please call for me and I’ll be glad to help solve their problem.”

What was the main idea, the dilemma that was poorly addressed in yesterday’s topic of choice? Neck and head having to move to offset an oncoming headache. He mentally shook off the idea of his writing and personal questions about Candy’s well being and secrets, in order to just hone in on their surface issue. This was originally what was important to him for the sake of the other workers, not himself.

“King Candy, Sire, the problem with your own idea of disciplining is that, ultimately, _I’m_ the one that has to implement that.” Tongue in cheek for a split second before the graying eyes glimmered with jade, gazing right into the other man’s pupils. If Candy needed something more to bring the point home, then this would have to suffice, “ _I_ have to be the one with the whip. Do you understand?”

_You did ask of me, and I’ve answered and added what I had to. I’m sorry for being a thorn on your side but it’s my responsibility as a consultant, as a confidante, that you probably never wanted to have._

_Quit, talking._

His dominant hand stretching and contracting slowly as he took in the deepest breath and let it out with little show; last thing he wanted was his to have his volume of private speech manifest itself in their objective reality. Bill’s eyes closed as if he were to lean over the table and take a long nap, but kept sitting with that one hand working and the other disturbingly at rest.

 

'I have to be the one with the whip. Do you understand?'

Candy couldn't stop himself from staring at his servant even if his head was taffied to the back of the chair. Everything Sour Bill have said so far has only served to push the monarch's frustration further. Relaxed posture long forgotten for sitting up straight. Face unreadable but could be mistaken for shock.

Then again, Bill's points weren't without founding. Candy did delegate to his head servant, his right hand man if you will, lot. Only now was it becoming apparent the effect this had on Sour Bill. A brief image of seeing Bill's corrupted codes flashed through the racer's mind. Forcing himself to blink and place a hand up to his eye. Deflating in posture and remaining blind for a time to mull over the words.

What did he himself feel? Guilt? No, that wasn't it. Rage? Certainly, but, at who or what? What reason was there for the rage anyhow?

For as long as he could remember, Bill handled about half the kingdom. Really, it ought to be someone else who—rose eyes blinked open before being rubbed at with a loud sigh.

"Alright." Very plain and neutral in tone.

 

_‘Alright’, what?_

At his King’s only word Bill’s eyes opened, now clearly confused with brows raised and folded; it was the most open he had been with his inner emotions thus far. Noticing for how long he had kept it up on the surface, this expression sank back down to the typical as mental cursing ensued, nowhere near as explicit as an outsider’s language although it was sufficient to keep him level for a while longer.

Candy was not in his best mood given how he was almost hunching over. Asking for clarification was imperative but trying it at this moment would set him off for sure. Hands meshed together as eyes were lit into limelight; mouth covered by his fingers to not reveal whatever he was feeling. Maybe Candy took the point literally; maybe not. A brief imagining of him holding licorice hide contracted brows for a split second as it could go no further than that. Words slipped through his tongue without thought at times but they seemed to be effective. His emotions only on the surface changing quickly, tone of voice melded to become friendly or cold to serve some ulterior motive perhaps.

Giving a mental shake of his head trying to not lose himself, within himself. These things were not important. Getting the ruler of Sugar Rush to do something positive and effective—that was the first goal before any of this mounting frustration between them.

Yellow eyes. He had been rubbing at them earlier. What time was it now? Was it near dinner? Mental note to jot down bullet points in the journal if at all possible.

.. When a minute or more went by of silence, the servant opened his mouth, “Sire..?” Hands down, seeming relaxed after enough tension. Eyes steady to the other. A look of concern that could compete with, and perhaps surpass, Candy’s performance. Leaning in despite the great amount of space setting him apart, “Do you, wish for me to leave?”

Some part of Sour Bill wished to retract, self-defeating. Another, “Or, are you fine having me here for the time being?”

_That’s a stupid question to ask, servant. What do you think??_

 

"Hm?" Candy looked over to Bill with an.... no, it was a tired face. Despite having had rest and barely doing much at the races today, he still felt the fatigue from the fight yesterday. 'That fight....' Honestly, he should have deleted Bill's memory when he had the chance. But still...

"No, no," another deep sigh, rather hard to tell what kind of sigh it was, "I think it'sth best if....if I be the one to leave....I...." looking off to the side. Rose eyes lit up though as a flash of thought went through the King's mind.

Standing abruptly, the King's posture seemed to regain its royal composure. Like clockwork, the 7 pm dinner bell chimed and a chef themed servant came out to talk to the King. Seeing the King standing though, the chef asked, "Is something ze mattar, your H-Ighness?"

Candy, within the blink of an eye, put back on his masquerade. "Hoo hoo, I guessth I'm justht too busy and tired to just sit and eat." He turned to the chef to give him one of his usual bubbly smiles. "Be a dear and have two traysth of dinner brought up to the royal chambersth, would you please?"

"Oui! At once your excellency!" the chef bowed deeply and briskly made his way back to the kitchen. "That'd be excellent, ahoo!" Candy called after the chef before he disappeared past the double kitchen doors.

When Candy knew he was alone with his head servant again, he dropped the act like a hot potato. "Alright. I'm tired and frustrated." rubbing at his temples as if to prove his point. Not even looking to Bill, he strode over to the doors that would eventually lead the Sugary Sire up to his bedroom. Pausing at them for a full moment before glancing over his shoulder at Bill. Again, his eyes didn't quite look normal. "C'mon. I don't have enough stamina to argue nor try to convincthe you to just follow me. So," he turned to face the doors, shoulders rising up before dramatically falling after another loud sigh, "just come up to my bedroom and we'll talk more there...... there's..... something I'd like to know from you."

Before Bill could reply, Candy pushed his way through the doors. Hoping he wasn't going to regret this conversation.


	7. Chapter 7

So yesterday did have a lasting effect on his King. Even he was getting sick of anger and this forced a bit of throat contraction swallowing down little of nothing. For what reasons Bill was unsure. He flinched as Candy stood but heard the familiar tone that reassured nothing was out of the ordinary; to help out the act of well getting along Bill leaned back coolly while minding his overall posture; leg crossing over the other with arms folded delicately. No eye fixation on the chef as to not give anything away that might play on his brows. A lightly amused look seemed to work to not arouse suspicion.

Before the doors closed, the chef was a spriteful thing, he rather sat up properly, a blank slate once again. Pursing his lips when he strode past; ‘2 trays upstairs’. By the time Candy talked he was up but hadn’t moved from his spot.. What did he want to know?

A second of inner dialogue preceded his brisk walk; holding out only one door for himself before it shut. He kept his distance a little behind his superior but off to the side to give Candy more sense of security if he ever glanced behind him on the way to the bedroom, up the steps not minding the railing.

Bill’s lips were sealed shut for the occasion that a passerby would hear in on them; luckily around this time no one should be near the royal residential hallway. Some last minute meditation as they approached their destination. Eyelids drooped.

_Listen to him._

 

Candy's thoughts blurred and for the trip to his room, his mind was pretty empty. Sadly, he couldn't conjure forth anything to say that wasn't already obvious to his servant. 'At least he's following orders now.' The briefest of cohesive thoughts flitted to the front of his mind before dissipating again.

Time seemed to move quicker once he found himself standing in front of the royal bed chamber doors. Another, deep, long sigh escaped, this time through his nose. For moment, he hesitated grabbing the door handle. Then, he pushed on through to come to hold the door open for Bill.

After Bill came in, true to form, an assistant chef wheeled a jingling cart of fresh food up to the doors. Candy gave another of his usual "Hoohoo's!" and nodded in thanks to the chef assistant. Continuing to hold the door open to allow for the chef to push the cart in and then take his leave.

Candy brought the cart the rest of the way in before closing the bedroom door. Again, he waited for something to happen, but nothing did. Moments stretched into nearly a minute before the tired King half dragged the cart over to the foot of his king sized bed. His expression remaining tired, not at all a spark of life in his features.

Not really paying any mind to Bill by this point, he kicked off his slippers and made quick work of his jacket, vest, bowtie and neck cuff. Tossing the clothes toward the head of the bed. He looked to the food cart and blinked rather slowly at it. Was he hungry at this point? He couldn't tell. Another sigh, this one shorter, allowed his posture to slump as he sat on the edge of the foot of the bed.

A minute passed. Candy's eyes had closed.

"Bill....come sit." he patted the cushy empty spot of the bed next to himself.

 

Sour Bill couldn’t fathom trying to push his buttons now. He seemed so.. apart from tired he was… Reminiscent of yesterday afternoon, evening. He kept standing at a far distance until he was motioned over, sitting at his spot giving a fair amount of space between them. Twisting himself so that his knees pointed a little towards Candy to not force his neck as before. He noticed a hot pot and a choice of coffee or tea apart from juice or chilled water. Intuitively he put together a blend that he knew would soothe his King if that was what he needed at this moment, calm. He only got the leaves together but that was it, not wasting water just yet if it turned out that Candy didn’t want anything. Eyeing their platters didn’t make his stomach rumble. He was just thirsty and poured a glass of water, offering Candy another.

After a long sip he looked to his boss simply waiting for him to be ready with whatever he had in mind in a patient manner. Bill would really have to monitor his responses this time as well as his own. This rare moment needed to be prolonged for as long as possible. The head servant had been inside the King’s chambers plenty of times to pick up laundry and restock linen, any maintenance task that was needed of him as he was the only servant allowed near this area. It was only now he could take in the ornate décor, staring near the ceiling; even that was nice. A chandelier being their light source with a simple yet elegant color palette of white and red shards of crystal rock candy. His eyes distracted more to their surroundings instead of the King for the time being.

“…”

 

"Thanks." so tired, he didn't even lisp. Quiet too. Taking the offered cup and sipping on the liquid to help maybe get himself started. 

He looked to Bill as he drank. Not really staring so much as trying to find words to speak. Was hard to tell the difference though as his eyebrows furrowed a little downwards and closed lips formed a slight frown.

As the King tried to think, he caught himself actually beginning to stare at Bill's appearance. As simple as it was, he was notably different in his looks compared to the other NPCs running around Sugar Rush. Bill's attention was elsewhere, or rather, everywhere around the room. Candy couldn't help raise an eyebrow in a semi-comedic fashion. About ready to make a sarcastic comment.

"...”

However, as quick as the feeling came, face shifted back to focus. Not intensely, nor for long. Gaze settled on the gap of the bedding between himself and his servant.

Another swallow of water and he decided to start.

"Bill, what, if anything, do you know of code?" his tone raised just a smidge louder from the quietness he spoke with before now. Both hands clasped loosely around the cup. Overall posture, still somewhat lax, if not unsure. Rose eyes looked up at Bill from the bowed crown of the King's head. If it weren't for his age, you'd think he looked innocent. But, he wasn't playing innocent so much as.....worry? Nerves? Unsureness? That last one was most likely the culprit of Candy's general emotions at this point.

 

The other man blinked once to hint that he was out of his trance once the question was over. Being absentminded for once was actually kind of pleasing given that his brain wouldn’t shut up. Now the cogs were working to get the juices flowing, “What do you know about code?” Repeating the question aloud in a computer like voice before processing it…

“I know nothing of code, other than what I speculate of it.. You are the only person I know or have heard of, that can view and manipulate it…” Technically, Bill could have access if King Candy was oh-so-kind to tutor him on it but that was way out of the question so the notion dropped as soon as it cropped up. “What you do with code immediately has an effect on the outside world, but I suppose that it can only control this game and not others. You’ve managed to lock memories, conjure up objects..” This was being said as-a-matter-of-factly and it was devoid of any anger or spite. Continuing on, “You handling code makes you.. omnipotent.” Bill stopped there to not go into rationale why he shouldn’t be using code for the wrong things or anything that would make his response become accusatory like before.

“In.. The Code Room, from a far distance, I can see many little lights interconnected by threads. All that, is that the whole game, Candy? Up close, is it massive?” Minute details that had no importance sometimes intrigued him. It actually showed on his face like an overachieving student garnering knowledge from his teacher. “.. Would it be too prying to ask.. how you started?”

He chugged down the rest of his water throat suddenly feeling dry with speaking at all. Candy did ask..

 

Hearing the question on repeat did cause Candy's hands to tighten around his cup and he sat up to gauge Bill's reply properly. Not that he couldn't help it though as he was trying to simultaneously fight down urges of nervousness and wanting to run away. Instead, he took a short, quiet sip of water before Sour Bill continued on.

"..." A corner of Candy's lip twitched upwards for barely even a second at hearing Bill's admittance to not knowing anything about Code. Relief actually began to flow through himself when Bill asked questions about code. With Bill asking, Candy had more control over how much he could choose to tell Bill. The questions also showed that Bill didn't know much. His servant though had observed some details whenever his highness messed with the codes. This caused Candy to re-situate himself on the bed.

Bringing up his tights covered legs to sit criss-cross, Candy's posture took on that of a more superior one. 'Omnipotent. If only he knew...' he thought as he took another sip. A smile did spread across his face at the prospect of teaching someone actually interested in learning code. The smile dissipated though in favor of a slightly worried look. 

Before Sugar Rush, Turbo had found himself wishing there was someone with all the answers when he was learning coding. He had to learn the hard way by experimenting in lesser played games in the arcade. The coding varied in complication to simplicity depending on how recent a vintage the game was. He didn't have any interest in learning coding before Turbo Time was unplugged. Afterwards though, if it meant survival...

Here and now though, not quite the same situation was taking place. Only, Candy held more answers than Bill. This would normally give him the rush of power he so wanted to possess over Bill....but it didn't. Instead, it filled him with more uncertainty in his current position.

Finishing the liquid in his cup, he placed it back on the cart and then stretched his arms up while bending his back so it would stretch as well. A few pop noises came from his back, followed by a yawn he tried to stifle. Clearly, he was tired. But at the same time, he had a little bit of a renewed energy about his face.

"Well, I guessth I could at least correct you on things asth you ask." his tone kept careful, "but..." Candy looked away from Bill, but not completely to where Bill wouldn't see the King's face. Clearly, Candy was conflicted.

He went silent for a moment before he closed his eyes. "T-the Code of a game....it'sth....well...that's not ALL of it but...ahhh...." he trailed off. Clearly having trouble getting the words out.

 

Green eyes glowed despite a blank face, teasing into an encouraging smile. The King’s servant knew that he held the shorter straw in this subject and in light of this, expected him to tell half truths. Everything that Candy was about to say couldn’t be believed at face value but he’d have to play it like he would accept everything, or at least keep his questions to a bare minimum. Bill couldn’t deny it any longer; his superior was suffering although he couldn’t tell the extent of it. Earlier this morning he called it “weak” but in the grand scope, adding on the time he forgot through said man’s manipulation, said weakness was just beginning to surface. Those shows of smugness and anger might well be a part of who King Candy was, but it might be something to hide an inner.. sadness? Guilt? Great defenses Candy had been using, if anything.

“Take your time.” Was the only thing that he could say. He placed his empty glass gingerly back on the tray and settled his hands in his lap, staring now at the swirled and garlanded carpet and hardwood floor before giving his eyes rest. Deep down he understood that everybody had their barriers, including him. Yet Bill was grateful for being less emotional overall. There was a latent fear of the moment he would lose all reason and be guided by mere impulses. He didn’t like seeing that in others and he believed that he would break if he experienced even a minute of it, never to come back to the original levelheaded state of mind. An absolute change that would steal the one advantage he had over the servants and the citizens, over his King.

At this point his hands folded up to his mouth, brows lowering on still shut lids. A tiny little sigh before regaining back lost air with quiet but deep breathing. Forehead pulsing before the neck tugged him back getting that pain from before, “Ow.” Glancing over at Candy once again rubbing it and the back of his head, “Had a good arm back there.” Smirking for a blink’s length looking nowhere in particular. “Impressive.”

It was an afterthought to suppose that this was an attempt to inject some humor to break the ice. Anything that would put the older man at ease. He might have made it worse. Bill sighed, “Didn’t mean to.. ah.” This was awkward for them both! “D-Do you want tea or, anything else?” Hand farthest from Candy nearly gripping the mattress so as to not be seen.

 

Candy missed about half of what his 'guest' was doing thanks to trying to mentally pick out the right words. He didn't want to just blurt 'YOUR CODE IS PARTIALLY CORRUPTED!' at Bill. He had to use tact. Especially since he could use this to his advantage. Or at least, gain more of an advantage over Bill. Candy shook his head to the right to rid himself of the fast thoughts that were, for the time being, nonsense and too fast. 

Another breath escaped him and he nodded to Bill in response to the tea. "Chamomile." a rushed murmur before he lost himself within again. Being tired allowed him to think more but the cost was too many thoughts all at once.

"I don't know what comesth ova me when I'm like that..." a lying mutter. He did know. Oh, how he did know. Anytime that.... girl was brought into conversation, Candy wouldn't have it. "... Sthorry." This time, Candy sounded more sincere. But only begrudgingly so.

"Look, code isth.... well, there's lots of it and it isthn't asth simple as it looks." he began. He took a look at Bill to make sure he was paying attention. "When I start talkin, don't interrupt, got it?" Now he sounded frazzled. Unsure, nervous, yet, confident all at once.

 

The mix that was prepared earlier did have chamomile; it just needed to be sealed and steeped in water which was done as soon as the answer came, overhearing all the while and picking out the tone. He was standing when Candy made his pause after the code bit. Tilting his head slightly at the warning.

“.. I won’t.” Dead and flat as orbs went close to gray. So much for a conversation. Back solely to his original plan. A couple of minutes of their silence before the tea was ready to serve, “Careful.” Used to serving drinks at the table or tray and not into his King’s hands. Once Candy had his grip on the gold-rimmed porcelain Sour Bill sat back down minding their space as usual. Now or never, something good had to come out of this, informative and.. What was he hiding? Could Bill do anything about it or was he not enlightened enough to help solve this being’s problems? Would he ever..?

“Sire, you may start.” Mouth to a close, mind and vision to be free to observe everything of him.


	8. Chapter 8

"O-okay then." Candy was, again, close to the edge of nervousness. "Th...thank you." Eyes downcast to the steaming tea. Both hands used to hold the cup after initially curling a couple digits around the handle. Blowing gently over the liquid as thoughts ebbed and surged as to the words he was speaking.

'Should I say that? What about THAT? No, no, gotta lead up to it....unless, it should be talked about first.....no, NO! Then too much will be said! Wait, how much IS too much?...' He took a slow sip of tea once it was cool enough. Rose eyes staring at nothing in particular except downward. The only sign he was still in thought was how the irises twitched side to side ever so slightly.

His head lifted though in a snap to look at Bill. He missed what he said! 'Blast it all!' Candy re-adjusted his grip on the tea cup. Not crushing it in his hold but cupping the porcelain itself. Blinking with obvious startlement. Visibly swallowing.

After about a moment, Candy simply shut his eyes and let his mouth run automatically. Allowing himself to just, talk like he was correcting one of the servants. Which, in a way, he kinda was.

"Thosthe 'threads' as you called them are the connections to those 'lights'. It'sth a system that, on whole, cannot be seen all at once. There'sth.... more than what you've glimpsthed." He paused only for another sip of tea. His tone was neutral, if not a bit halting as clearly he was uncomfortable talking at all on the subject.

"Up closthe, it'sth bigger than any-thing you could EVA imagine, let alone stheen. Well, besidesth the code room of course. BUT!" Candy's eyes opened for a moment to show a serious look, "it'sth HIGHLY dangerous to go in without ANY idea asth to what to do! Stho, stho," he wagged a finger at Bill in a 'naughty naughty' gesture, "don't get any ideasth about just going in an exploring! Hoo, hoo, when I first wasth learning, I nearly 'game ova' a few timesth alone from....from....*ahem* well, that'stha story for anotha time." He casually went back to sipping his tea. As though he were embarrassed and wasn't ready to share.

His expression became almost nostalgic, but, in an almost regretful way. Almost.

Tone of voice was though somewhat far off, as well as where his vision looked to, "... I had no one to teach me..... There’s been so much I learned..... Yet.... I have to wonder..... Is the knowledge...." A sigh, much like earlier, escaped out and his posture deflated with his legs moving out to dangle over the edge of the bed, ".... worth it?"

Going to sip his tea again, Candy found he'd already finished it. "There's..... only so much I 'can' say Bill..... about Code. It's..... terrifying... when you realize how little your life is worth when among all those lights..." He set the cup back neatly on the cart. A smile so small, yet, seemed to be genuine, showed upon his face. His very tired face.

After about a moment, he chuckled lightly into his next words, "Well? Weren't you all bright eyed and excited for learnin’ a little bit ago?" A small yawn followed. "Asthk and.... and I'll talk ya through." Clearly, Candy seemed to become more and more relaxed. Arms coming to cross loosely over Candy's waist as he awaited Bill's response with a more eased air about himself.

Apparently, tea was pretty good at quelling most nerves. That and past regrets.

 

Lack of eye contact, stuttering. Okay. The servant didn’t try leaning in so much into the conversation if it would help his King in any way, to not add more pressure on him to speak. Candy was staring hard into nothing for a while after trying to cool down the liquid. For a moment Bill got mesmerized by the swirls of the tea’s evaporation before the sip and the little trembling of the man’s orbs bringing him back to their interaction. Looking down past the cup in his hold. Little by little Sour Bill’s posture sank down, not knowing if it was sleep catching up to him or the relative lack of personal thought as he waited. He hoped to have not just gawked at every nuance as it was abnormal and could stir up more in Candy than what was needed. The sudden movement, the jerk of the head, raised brows for the moment and figured it had to do with something that he said earlier. Bill had an urge to bring a loose fist to his chin and mouth but self-monitored in time that the hand raised itself, so that it rested with another hand in his lap. To prevent fidgeting the fingers interlaced, tensing and relaxing methodically. Talking about code was becoming a matter of life or death for Candy given the next quirks. In the time that the ruler’s eyes closed, he did too, while giving reminders in mind to not interrupt. Bill didn’t open his eyes, seeming to be in a trance, until the end of the second sentence. Cannot be seen all at once..

Oh there was more that he had seen already. The man’s eyes looked off to the side; he listed them. Candy trying to rein in his words and nervousness was working against him and his speech came out unnatural. But points for trying at all; Bill sensed this was the first time King Candy had shared this information to anyone—he was beginning to doubt it as he couldn’t remember a good portion of his servitude, in which there was a possibility Candy might have said too much to another. To.. Vanellope. That branch of thinking was pruned. In place of that was a visual representation of the vague description of the system. Larger than he could imagine—larger than the castle and all of Sugar Rush? Or in between? He tried not to get caught up in detail, just in time to his King’s emphasis; by old habit the back straightened up and the whole body tensed for a second before shoulders lowered.

Sour Bill had zero intent on wanting to change up anything in the game for himself or for others, it partially being a respect for whatever fate the original moderators had in mind for the code—to let it run untouched by, knowledgeable others. A curt sigh followed by a tiny grin, and a little shake of his head indicating he got the message. Face reverted to a respectful concentration on the next words. Almost “gamed over”.. a few times. Bill gave Candy enough credit towards intelligence in that he wouldn’t end up almost dead multiple times in the same game. He must have gone and been in others; there was a lot of free time on his hands... Story….? He blinked. Darker-skinned fingers separating. For what felt like several seconds Bill lightly pulled at them alternatively as if he had something to speculate. They stopped.

The solemn nature of his King in the next thread of dialogue stirred up something foreign; like following a script in imitating what he saw in others, to show empathy, his hand nearly touched the shoulder, only to retract. Was being in control of everything worth it? “No” was the short answer; indeed Sour Bill tended to be a micromanager at times but he saw the limit and would become flexible if need be.

…..

Candy looked as if he would collapse given the weight of his words. Not a single lisp got through and this was dismissed as a nuance in exhaustion.. If life was worth little to nothing, then what was the point in living? Why didn’t he follow through with the threat?? It had to mean something.

_Not the focus._

.. Code was terrifying—why bother with it in the first place if that was the case? Desperation might have been a factor in starting to manipulate it. Bill took a long breath to slow down his mind’s pace and tap into the external world. Candy was laughing a little and looking straight at him. Imagining for that second yellow orbs. “Uh.” Something about learning, about what? Oh yes! Code... What could be of distraction for them? Bill faced forward from the bed not concentrating on anything in particular. When a question finally planted itself he slowly shifted back his weight and resumed a comfortable posture to talk. The drink did some good after all. Smiling more out of a personal accomplishment of getting the right blend for Candy—the appreciation for his better disposition came after.

“…. When you, see into the codes of objects, other characters, including your own since they might be the same… What, can you see?” Leaving it to be a generalized topic for Candy so he didn’t feel forced to give the finer details right away. Chances were they weren’t going to be. For now that was fine. Palms resting on either side where he sat. The near shimmer didn’t return to his features but held a dim glow, cautious.

 

Candy hummed in response to Bill when he had answered 'No' to whether complete control was worth it. More as an acknowledgement than anything else.

It didn't really hit the King what Bill was asking. It didn't help that his own eyelids were getting heavier. By the time Bill finished asking the question, a hard yawn escaped his mouth. "Nnn, sthorry. Um... urm." He stretched again in an attempt to wake up more but only brought on another yawn.

Candy then moved so his back was being propped up by one of the posters on the bed. Eyes heavy with want for sleep. But, an almost loopy smile on the face.

"Lookin inta.... inta character's code boxesth and item boxesth." Stating it as though he were a very tired sounding manual. He was pretty much on auto pilot by this point as the more he talked, the more his head would droop. "Wh... when ya look into one, it showsth you quite a lot. Depending.... on the object, it'll have either a lot or very little of code within."

Candy brought up his hands for emphasis in front of himself but they limp wristed somewhat due to his sleepiness. "For Sugar Rush code, they look like little square tiles with picturesth. Now, I KNOW that makesth it sthound sthooo...*yawns*.... stho simple to just... pop open a box and pick what ya wanna look at, but it ain't!" He made an exaggerated face before another yawn caused him to fall against the poster of the bed.

"For character boxesth though, ahoo, they're lotsth.... lotsth different. Hmmm...." Voice growing quieter as his posture seemed to grow limp. Save for his legs coming to curl up and arms folding around himself in a pseudo hug to stay warm. Eyes drooped shut every few seconds, but would burst open again in a fruitless attempt at staying awake.

".. y...Your box... was...." he murmured before falling silent. His breathing slowed.

Candy passed out while talking.

 

“It’s alright, Candy.” For one he knew that yawns were contagious; Bill only breathed in through his nose and exhaled the same way to keep himself conscious. The other guy was getting a chain going and he realized he would fall asleep at one point or another. He visibly bit down his own lower lip but by this point given that funny lopsided grin on the King’s countenance, it wasn’t going to be taken aversively.

For now he strained to hear, having to scoot in just a bit to catch on the words to make bullet points in his thinking. Amount of code depends on object. Logically, the more complex the object the more data there would have to be. Boxes of images—Bill backed off a little at the attempt of the man trying to fight sleep off, before the yawn following right after eased him. Although the servant couldn’t help but wince at the dull thunk as it reminded him of his own bump.

.. Character boxes were different. All characters in Sugar Rush might have the same framework, but each one would have their personal items because supposedly each person was unique. Was King Candy’s the same, or..?

“Sire?” Fingers curling as he saw the other drifting off to sleep despite the reactions. The last few words were very quiet and Bill had to lean in near just to get them. Several seconds went by of nothing but staring past Candy brain unable to mull over the phrase. As he leaned back slowly to not stir his King awake and stood, the word “your” set off a bit of a tremble despite it not being that cold. Was going into his code box necessary to kill him?

“What can you see in my code?” A low whisper as he carefully wheeled out the trays into the hallway, setting the cart near the dumbwaiter. For now he let the food cool down some more and went back inside the room paralleling the door. As predicted there was dead activity up on this floor; Bill sighed relieved not needing to make up more ditties. In his current position, if King Candy wasn’t so tired, would have been pretty uncomfortable. To correct this Bill lay him down on his side, only near the middle of the mattress and not the headboard, supposing that was preferred but looked again, blowing out air. With little to say afterward but with a lot to think about he found a change of clothes, salmon and orange crème striped pajamas with the little nightcap to match, to dress him in.

… Could the code reveal thoughts, words in the mind? Would it show everything that his eyes saw? If so was it a stream of consciousness, or segmented? Had to be segmented, otherwise the whole of his memory had to have been erased just to be rid of that dark past event, which was literally locked away. Would data give detailed information just on what he was? How he was? If there was anything Bill could sleep soundly with, it was that his all-knowing employer wasn’t an erupting volcano at this time to consider digging into those details. “My ‘code was’.. what??”

The servant picked up his king and settled him down where he was meant to be, pulling the sheets out of the way before then to cover him up without struggle or disturbance to slumber. A long cushioned seat next to the balcony door was a good spot to place the royal garments, as well as the items that had been discarded carelessly earlier. Shoes were lined up and placed underneath the furniture piece. Still in a kneel he noticed a napkin. Believing it for a second to be from the kitchen, the cheap feel sent a surge of what felt like electricity inside of him. “..!” Sour Bill gaped at the markings done in a hurried manner before taking in the little things not to be dismissed. The crumpled look over what could have been neatly folded; a stain of..? Whatever the Tapper’s sign was showing; he wasn’t about to smell it. This must have fallen out of Candy’s coat. Then and there an impulse to memorize said code, copy it down—something. Take it even! Get the advantage!

Wait.. Shaking his head holding it steady from reeling. “I can’t.” Bill didn’t want to start arguing with himself over this. He found an inside pocket in violet material and folded the napkin along the major creases to place it in. What happened between them just now was to be valued. If Candy were to say anything else, trust had to be earned by keeping prudent. It would save them the trouble of another violent confrontation, which the servant wasn’t too sure of holding back that second time around.

He dimmed down the inviting chandelier lights to black and closed the door.

 

As soon as the cart arrived in the luckily spotless kitchen via dumbwaiter magic, Bill looked his tray over and picked out a single dinner roll, proceeding to consume it without butter, and heated up the now lukewarm coffee in a small but deep pan. As per usual he drank the dark roast straight and finished the bread in the process. King Candy wouldn’t have it but the leftovers could be saved for himself without issue.

The caffeine served to keep the head servant up a little longer to write down anything that was of importance tonight in the journal, and way in the back wrote down the rough context of why this journal was taken into his possession and what secret he had been keeping under wraps for his king to go unscathed. Near the corner of a page he warned himself not to go into deep shock or remorse or go livid in the scenario that Candy would decide to pick out his memories again. “Disturbing? Yes. Keep contained.”

Back to the recent summary, Sour Bill tried to form a comprehensive theory on King Candy’s behavior. The code was written and crumpled away; no one else of significance was to see it. But where did it come from? Ignored for now—he knew code perhaps better than anyone else in the whole arcade, because in their natural state no character would become compelled to breach that information. Experimented more than once, over how long? No one to teach him.. Looking just sad, sincerely.

“Story for another time..” Skin pulled over dulling white and green. Coffee never worked for that long for him. Brain labored too hard; he’d do better synthesizing tomorrow if his schedule allowed it. Book shut and hidden from view. Sighing before a petite yawn under a curled hand.

Despite the hours that passed over the span of a couple days, there was a rare tranquility within Bill and it illustrated on his features. Tomorrow morning it would revert to that same anxious state, surely. It was.. pleasant… to not be at odds with his superior for once. To experience that again, with enough confidence to one day leave the game to explore would be a nice distraction from obsessing over the mystery.

If the consequence was to become a distant companion to the king without reform, so be it.


End file.
